Above are two special ladies. My grandmother and great-grandmother, or as they are more commonly known in our family, Ma and Nana. Their names are Faye Yencer and Grace Barnes, but I would argue that they are more well known by their family names. Isn't that what happens to all of us? My daughter started school this year, and it has already begun. I'm now "Alice's Mom." I love it. I look forward to one day being known to more people by a family name than my own.
I have a great family. We are spread out over the US, but when we manage to get together, there are two things guaranteed to happen: a campfire and a lot of story-telling. Usually a Cracker Barrel is also involved.
Recently I found myself around a campfire with my family listening to the stories again. I looked around and saw what I always see: similar noses, familiar faces and a glimpse into my own future. This time, because of the changes in my own life, I saw something else. I saw the stories. In this short visit I heard emotional stories about salvation, funny stories about the "old days" of my uncles' youth, and even a little horror (try listening to the 50+ crowd talk about colonoscopies!). I heard about new ventures and old ones relived. And I realized....I have learned more about comedic timing, building suspense, and holding an audience captive from these little campfire get-togethers than I could have ever been taught by a book or class.
When I look at my family, I see the long line of lives that led to my own. It's really powerful. We all have it, our ancestors. How can we show honor to those lives that brought about our own? I tell my stories, and that is a start. I think the real answer is to tell theirs.
My Nana isn't one to tell a lot of stories. She is a quiet woman. My goodness did she ever bring about a lot of story-tellers though! I'm so thankful for her because without her, there would be no me, and no Alice. I tell a lot of stories that I make up and write them and hope that other people like them. It's a great privilege to get to do that. My real hope for my own future though, is that my child will one day carry the story of me forward. I hope that one day she sits around a campfire with her own family line and talks about the funny or sad or happy things that happened with me at her side.
Today Nana turns 95 years old. Can you imagine being 95? Can you imagine living to meet your grandchildren, great-grandchildren and even great-great-grandchildren? She has. But even if she goes to the Lord tomorrow (I sincerely hope not), she will live on in stories. I can barely imagine being 35 some days (it's coming fast), so 95 is difficult. But regardless of how long I walk around on this earth, I hope to live on in stories. Nana will live on in stories.
What stories do you carry forward with you? Who will carry the memory of you into the future? Today might be a good day to call those people and remind them that you love them.
Nana, if you are reading this. I love you. Happy Birthday.